Finding My Way (Beaumont 4)

“It’s good to have someone waiting,” is all he says. He’s wrong though. She’s not waiting. When I say I left her, I left her. She’s not sitting in her room writing me love letters or waiting for me to call her at the end of the night. She’s moving on, or at least I hope she is. In my mind she’s planning a future without me. She’s finding a new love, one that will treat her right and not disappear on her. She doesn’t need me to fill her thoughts or dreams any longer.

Zeke shows me the drawing and my heart breaks all over again. The words I uttered to her replay in my mind. I sit up and pull my t-shirt off and show him where I want the tattoo. He smiles like he gets it and places the transfer paper onto my skin.

“Harrison’s told me about you and I have a feeling you’re as private as he is. If I was you, I’d never take my shirt off after this or your girl will become famous.”

His words strike a chord with me and I make a mental note to always stay dressed when I’m on stage. I know other artists like to walk around with their chest showing, but I don’t need to do that. Not now that her name is a part of me forever.

Chapter 37

She crawls over my body with her mouth teasing me. Her long dark hair creates a veil, shielding her face from me. My hand brushes her hair aside, cupping the back of her head. My fingers guide her up my torso as her lips blaze a path on my skin. Her blue eyes shimmer in the morning sun. I beg her with my eyes to please put me out of my misery.

“Josie,” I whisper as our lips meet. “God, I’ve missed you,” I tell her as I bring my hips up to meet hers. She peppers my face with feather light kisses, pulling me to the edge. I can’t hold her in my hands long enough to quench the thirst I feel for her.

“Liam, don’t leave me,” she purrs in my ears. Her words break me, shatter my heart. Why does she think I’d ever leave her? Doesn’t she know she owns me? “I love this,” she says against my skin, her tongue reaching out to trace her name. The name I had inked so I’d never forget her. “Do you love me Liam?”

“More than my own life,” I reply as I place my hands on her leg, pulling them away so she’s straddling me. I need her. I need to feel her wrapped around me. “Marry me,” I murmur against her mouth. This is not the type of proposal I wanted for us, but the words are out of my mouth before I know it.

“Yes,” she replies as I plunge into her and she bites down on my lip. Her back arches as I move my hips. I hold her to me, afraid that if I let go, she’ll disappear. I just got her back. I can’t let her leave me.

“Oh Liam,” she moans as her hands push against my chest. I try to hold her, but she’s moving away.

“Stay. I want you to stay.”

“I can’t.”

A loud crash startles me. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. They’re damp as if I’ve been crying. I know I have, but I can’t admit that, at least not out loud. This dream or nightmare was disturbingly vivid. I can still feel her lips on my tattoo. I touch my scarred skin and wonder why my mind works the way it does.

I throw back the cover and groan at the sight of my erection, a wet dream nightmare – wonderful – sign me up for the next case study in Dream Studies 101 I’m surely a top candidate. I throw on some sweats even and pad my way into the kitchen. Grandma should be awake by now.

“Gram?” I call out, but receive no response. The coffee pot is on so I know she’s awake. I walk into the living room and stop dead in my tracks.

“Grandma?” I say my voice barely above a whisper. She’s lying on the ground with her coffee cup shattered next to her. She’s the loud crash that woke me from my dream.

“Grandma!” I yell this time as I kneel next to her. I shake her slightly at first then more firmly, but she doesn’t come around. “Holy fuck, Grandma, wake up, you’re scaring me.” I shake her some more, but there’s nothing. I feel for a pulse, trying to recall what I learned in health class, but can find nothing. I put my head on her chest and wait for the rise and fall of her breathing. Nothing.

I reach for the phone and dial 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My grandma fell, I think, and I can’t find a pulse and I don’t know if she’s breathing.”

“Okay, what’s your address?”

I recite the address and listen to the lady on the other end guide me through CPR. Why didn’t I pay attention in class when this was taught? I breathe into her mouth and start chest compressions, counting out the required times that is needed before breathing for her again, losing track of time as I repeat the process.

“Grandma, come on. You can’t leave me,” I cry out. In the background I hear sirens, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I need her. “Grandma,” I yell as I push on her chest, one-one thousand, two-one thousand. I’m lifted

off the ground and away from her only to be replaced by someone in blue.

“What’s her name?”

I stare at him while his lips move, but I can’t hear him.

“What’s her name, son?”

“B-b-betty.” I clear my throat. “Betty Addison.”

Realization stretches across his face. He knows who she is and I don’t know if that makes him move faster or what, but he’s yelling out instructions and people are moving around her at lightning speed.